


Jealous of the Moon

by hellostarlight20



Series: Prompts [25]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Jealous!Doctor, Jealous!Rose, NSFW, Romance, Smutty interlude, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealous!Tentoo, equally Possessive!Rose in a smutty interlude to their every day lives. From a Tumblr Prompt: Jealous Tentoo (maybe smutty).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @Kelkat9 for the quick beta. Title from a Shania Twain song.

The ballroom doors stood open to London’s warmer-than-normal weather. A cool summer breeze ruffled the long hem of Rose’s gown, fluttering it against her legs. The Doctor watched the thin material brush against her pale skin, caressing her as his fingers longed to.

From his deceptively casual position against the bar, he watched her lean into the man’s touch, the other’s golden fingers caressing her shoulder. Rose smiled up at that man, tilted her head and laughed at something he said.

Jealousy flared hot and dark through him. It burned away all common sense, all rationality. It boiled beneath the surface, a black, ugly blistering thing he wasn’t proud of but was equally helpless to ignore.

He watched her flirt and laugh the entire night. That dress, that damn red dress with barely any back and a tantalizing slit up one thigh, teased him mercilessly. And hands, hands that were not his, touched her—slid across her bare shoulders and down the long curve of her spine.

That other man knew what Rose’s skin felt like, the supple flesh beneath fingertips, the human warmth against palms. And the Doctor hated it. Hated any other than he knew the erotic wonders, the glorious feel of Rose’s skin.

The Doctor scowled and couldn’t even properly enjoy the nibbles Pete made sure to provide for this so-called diplomatic dinner. The worst part was that the Doctor only had himself to blame.

Which didn’t make his jealousy one bit easier.

“Hello,” Rose said, voice low and soft. She slid her bare arm through his, her fingers automatically twining with his.

“Enjoying yourself?” He snapped, the blister of possession scorching his words.

One eyebrow raised, his wife pulled back and eyed him carefully. She straightened, fingers slipping from his. In her heels, gorgeous sparkly things that made her already amazing legs look even more amazing, she stood almost his height. Her brandy-colored eyes narrowed.

“What,” she said, enunciating each syllable clearly and precisely, “is that supposed to mean?”

“Seems the general over there is enjoying himself.” Really, he needed to stop talking. Now. Or maybe five minutes ago. Maybe ten.

“If I recall correctly, that was your idea.” Rose’s eyes narrowed further. Her voice dropped about ten degrees as well.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who said the Aeroan general would respond better to me than anyone. In fact,” she continued, each word as sharp as the general’s sword. “I believe your exact words were _Just flirt with him a little, Rose. Smile at him. He’ll appreciate your mind and military tactics more—the Aeroans have an appreciation for both the mind and the body._ ”

Yes, he said that. Because he hadn’t quite realized—acknowledge—how deep his jealousy ran.

“That was before.”

He knew full-well his ground was a little shaky. But he said all that, before the dress and before she actually smiled and laughed and flirted with General Perun. Who had, indeed, appreciated the beautiful woman with the beautiful mind who was the Doctor’s wife.

“So what,” Rose asked, voice even sharper now if that was possible, “changed?”

“He touched you.” The Doctor growled, surprised even at his own vehemence.

But that pit of envious longing, of greedy desire, of yearning hunger continued to burn. It choked and blinded him. His hands curled into tight fists, though his palms longed to slid against her back, to erase the general’s touch and brand her with his own.

“His hands caressed your skin, slid down your back.”

And everything poured from him. The jealousy over another touching her, the heated anger that built as he watched her all evening. And the bitter self-loathing at those emotions.

Rose jabbed him in the chest. “You think I enjoyed that?”

He caught her hand and tugged her against him. “No,” he admitted.

His voice sounded rough, still coated with his own covetousness need to be the only one ever to touch her. To feel the smoothness of her skin. To see her naked, to know the sounds she made as she came hard against him.

“Then what’s the problem?” She demanded. Face set, anger a low throb along their marital bond, Rose leaned slightly back and glared at him.

On a deeper level neither spoke of, neither openly admitted, her body vibrated with need. The hunger that clawed through him tore through her as well. Vicious and possessive, the darkness hung over them but neither acknowledged it.

“You’re mine.”

Rose’s eyes widened, then narrowed gain. She yanked out of his embrace and grabbed his hand. Not in the way they normally held hands, but in a parody of the touch. Dragging him out of the private ballroom, she pulled him into one of the alcoves that lined the hallway in this specially constructed Off World-Conference Hotel and shut the door.

“What,” she hissed, “are you talking about?”

He stalked a few steps closer, heard her breath hitch and the way her heart pounded. He may not be fully Time Lord, but his senses were still far superior to the average Human’s. Rose’s arousal permeated the air, clung to her skin in the most addicting of scents.

The Doctor trailed his fingertips over her shoulders, the exact way Perun had—erasing the memory of the general’s touch on his wife.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into her ear. Rose shivered. He brushed his lips along her jaw, a feather light touch. “My wife, my lover.”

He danced his fingers up her bare arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake. The Doctor pressed his palms to her lower back, urged her closer. He nipped at the sensitive skin just behind her ear. She shivered and his tongue darted out, caressing the light bite. He lightly kissed her neck, across her bare shoulder until she pulled back.

“Why are you so jealous?” she demanded.

But her voice shook, not in fear. Never that. In arousal. In understanding. She gripped his shoulders and even when Rose pulled back to glare at him, he saw her cheeks flush with that same dark need that pounded through him, smelled it along her skin.

Her eyes darkened, fingers digging in even harder. She understood. She always understood because that same jealous need to take and bite and mark and possess was a fire within her, too. Rose whimpered, a low sound in the back of her throat, and arched into him.

Instead of answering, he kissed her. Cupped the back of her head, pressed his palm to the beautiful curve of her spine. Her fingers combed through his hair, mouth hard against his. The Doctor deepened the kiss, the feel of her warm satin skin beneath his fingertips as arousing as the scent of her. As the feel of her mouth on his.

He easily lifted Rose and set her on the long marble counter that ran the length of the room. Hiking up the skirt of her red dress, he slid his fingers along the gown’s slit, felt the smoothness of her thigh. He tugged the scrap of material covering her, breaking the thin straps in one go, and shoved it in his tux pocket.

“I hate seeing any other man touch you,” he said. His finger slid into her wet heat and she hissed, arching her hips so he slid deeper. “I hate that anyone else even _looks_ at you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rose snapped back and nipped at his throat. She clawed at the tie, at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his own skin for her to touch, to taste. 

“What about Queen Vänämnen?” She pulled back but didn’t push him away. Drew him closer. “And how she took your flirting so seriously she had me arrested.”

He growled at the memory. At his frantic helplessness when he realized how mad the Gorleon queen truly was. And how far he’d go to save his Rose.

The Doctor cupped her face and kissed her softly but no less possessive. She was his as surely as he was hers, and nothing in all the universes could tear them apart.

“Rose, I’m jealous when you play with Tony; I’m jealous when Jake has lunch with you.” He deepened the kiss, felt her legs widen to accommodate his stance and her heat, her glorious heat through his trousers. He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips.

“I’m jealous when Touchwood wants you for a mission or Vitex wants your time for them. I hate sharing you with anyone. Anything. I’m jealous when we dance in the backyard and the moonlight caresses your skin. Or when we swim in the TARDIS pool and the water embraces you like a lover.”

Her breath caught. “Doctor,” she breathed.

“If I could, we’d never leave the TARDIS.” He didn’t care the words were hard, rough, guttural. Arousal caught him in a hard relentless, pulled him inexorably toward the goddess in his arms. His goddess. “Watch the world from afar and make love amongst the stars.”

“You’d hate that,” she whispered. But Rose shivered, breath catching, fingers tightening on the nape of his neck.

“You don’t understand, my Rose.” He leaned his forehead against hers, fingers trailing along her spine. She shuddered, hips jerking against his, that low whimper shooting straight to his cock.

“All I want is you.”

She kissed him again harder, nipping his bottom lip, a hint of desperation in the kiss. Her fingers jerked at his trousers, quickly pushed them down, tugged at the waistband of his pants, nails grazing against his skin and shoved them out of the way as well. Her fingers stroked his cock, tips caressing him.

She teased him, ran her fingers over the head of his cock then scraped her nails down to his balls.

He shuddered against her. Cupping her bum, her glorious bum, he pushed her dress out of the way. He breathed deeply of the heady scent of her arousal and slid his fingers into the heat of her. Rose gasped, tilted her hips against his touch.

“Doctor,” she moaned, “my Doctor.”

The Doctor pulled back and set her on the edge of the counter. She raked her nails across the small of his back and he hiked her legs higher on his waist.

“I love you, Rose,” he breathed and entered her in one sure thrust. “I need you more than anything in this life or the next. I can’t lose you.”

“You never will,” she promised. “You’re mine, you’ll never lose me.” She tightened around him and he slid deeper into her heat. “I’ll never let you go.”

Her head fell back and her breath caught. He ran his thumb over her clit, watching her. Her lips parted and a look of pure ecstasy crossed her face. She breathed his name, hips meeting his with every thrust.

In awe of her beauty, of her passion, of her driving need (of his), he moved faster. Thrust harder into her welcoming body, tasted along her shoulder, nipped her throat, pinched her nipples through the material of her gown.

Her nails dug into his skin and he knew he’d have welts there later. The Doctor didn’t care. Wanted them, Rose’s mark.

He thrust harder, thumb pressing down on her clit. Her orgasm crashed through her, and she ground her hips against his hand, nonsensical words falling from her lips. She tightened around him, drawing him even deeper, and his control snapped.

He kissed her, a sloppy, bruising kiss, and pounded into her now. It wasn’t long, already on the edge as he was, before he fell. Shattered in her arms, her name a cry on his lips.

Rose caught him. She always did.

The Doctor blinked, breathing in the arousal-tinted scent of her neck, her pulse still pounding by his lips. He kissed the spot and breathed deeply—Essence of Rose—and tried to find the shreds of his control, the mantle he covered himself with to fool the rest of the world.

The happy, light man with the lightning-quick mind and an answer for everything. Not the man only Rose knew, the darker man whose sins blacken his soul; the possessive, greedy, covetous man who tried to live in a world that didn’t—couldn’t—accept him for all he truly was.

Only Rose. Only Rose understood, only she accepted. Only her touch lightened that blackness, eased the selfish envy. Only she mattered.

“I love you,” Rose said softly and pulled back.

She cleared her throat, shook her head. The Doctor knew she scrambled for control as well. Grasped it tenuously, her own hold as slippery as his.

“Now tell me what the hell that was all about.”

“I—” The Doctor shook his head, tried to clear it enough not to have her hit him.

He smiled ruefully and slipped out of her. He grabbed his handkerchief and cleaned them up, shoving that in his tux pocket as well. Lifting her off the marble counter, he straightened her dress and smoothed his fingers down her spine.

Rose shivered in his embrace and he kissed her shoulder.

“Sometimes I forget you’re not leaving,” he admitted. He fiddled with his tie, absently redoing it to make himself as presentable as possible. “Or I’m not. Sometimes it’s all right there, this…this dark pit of need.”

He cut himself off, pressed his lips together. His confession was entirely too close to the truth neither admitted, both skirted around. But both understood on a visceral, primal level between them.

“Doctor.” She cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “Yeah.” But then Rose pulled back and slapped her palm against his chest. “Now I’m going to finish this agreement with the general,” she said in that hard Torchwood voice he loved. “And if he touches me while we’re talking or negotiating, just remember.”

Rose yanked him by his tux lapels and kissed him hard. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” he agreed, voice rough, cock twitching at her assertiveness, at the kiss that ignited that never-banked fire between them. “I am.”

The Doctor pulled her close, hands on her back, her body a perfect fit to his. “And you’re mine.”

Rose grinned, that cheeky teasing grin where her tongue peaked from the corner of her mouth. “Forever.”


End file.
